


the unnatural order of things

by kanadka



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Episode Tag, F/M, Femdom, Hate Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minbari Sex Rituals, Oral Sex, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka
Summary: The Warrior Caste has their thumb where it shouldn't be, on the scales to tip the universe in their favour. The Religious Caste must restore balance to the stars.





	the unnatural order of things

**Author's Note:**

> Episode tag for the Season 2 episode All Alone in the Night, where Sheridan is captured by the Streib while Delenn is summoned to the Grey Council to find out someone's taken her place.

It was clear, upon the extinguishing of lights in the Grey Council chamber, that Delenn had been summarily dismissed. This was a tactic she had participated in before with others who were less well-behaved. Tazier of the Ship Builders Guild. Shakiri of the Wind Swords Clan. She had never expected to be dismissed like this, herself.

Not by a usurpant Warrior upstart. Not by Neroon.

How _could_ he? She had her suspicions that it would not end with Branmer's funeral, and the mockery he had made of it. But she had expected any retaliation to come directly to her, not for him to... to break the covenant with Valen and insert himself where he didn't belong. Neroon was too hotheaded to attain the position of Satai through any conventional means. No doubt he had capitalised on the brief upheaval in her caste when she had taken the leadership that was due her and absconded with the triluminary to fulfil Valen's prophecy. The Religious Caste should have supported her. Instead, at least one of them must have voted in favour of a Warrior occupying _her_ spot.

On the way back to her flyer in the hangar bay of the Grey Council ship she paused, outside the door to the apartment she once called hers. Does he sleep in my bed, too, she wondered.

In three impetuous strides Delenn was at the door, pushing the chime.

An aide opened. Young, female, Warrior caste. She did not keep her eyes where they should have been - on the floor, out of respect. Delenn's temper flared and her fingers itched to grab this whip of a girl by her sharp chin and direct her down. Must the Religious Caste remind the Warrior Caste of _all_ its manners? "Satai Neroon will not see you without appointment," said the girl.

That was _Delenn's_ title. "If there is any speck of honour left in him, he _will_ see me," said Delenn. Past the girl, she shouted, "Neroon! If you will take my position, you will give me something for it. I demand _komre'cha_."

The girl glared. "You do not have the _right_ -"

"Very well," said Neroon's lazy rumble from within, "let her in. Before she makes another _scene_. And leave us, Ritane."

The girl paused, then turned and saluted. "Yes, Satai Neroon." She ushered Delenn in, and then she was gone, shutting Delenn's door as she left.

Delenn was not sorry to see the back of her. "Too young, and already she is so impetuous. No doubt this is what happened to you."

Neroon, sitting in her silver armchair, still wore the grey robes. _Her_ grey robes. "You asked for the Ritual of Grievance, and I will grant it. I know how much you priestesses love your rituals. So state your _business_, and the grievance for which you think I owe you penance," he said coldly, "or leave. I shall suffer you no longer in my presence."

A true Ritual of Grievance would require at least require an offering of tea. Neroon did nothing but sit in her chair. "What were you _thinking?_" she asked.

He snorted. "Dialectics will not convince me."

"Indeed not, if you cannot count to _three!_" Delenn shouted. Neroon glared. "Simple arithmetic. Three from the Religious Caste - three from the Worker - _three_ from the Warrior Caste! Three is sacred, yet you are the fourth!"

"Satai Leraval of the Fire Wings has ever been faithful to the point of fervour," said Neroon.

"Satai Leraval has yet to claim the calling of his heart as a priest and join a _fane_," she shrieked, "and even if he does, there are steps to be followed!"

"Like there were _steps_ to be followed in your transformation?" Neroon thundered. Now he too got to his feet, to use his height as he was accustomed. Delenn would not be cowed by a cheap tactic and stood her ground. "Like you were to have consulted with Satai Rathenn or perhaps Jenimer, as Chosen One, before you took matters in your own hands? Jenimer, as Chosen One, who was a religious scholar in his days and who interprets Valennic prophecy better than _you_ can -"

"Dukhat selected _me_ for his replacement," said Delenn, "and no one else."

"But you abdicated the seat of the Chosen One! Not so very long ago you lectured _me_ about duty - so must I return the favour?" He scoffed. "And here I thought responsibility was a domain of the Religious Caste."

"Responsibility is the domain of all Minbari," she insisted. "You have abandoned yours to vault yourself for power. And it is a transparent move, Neroon."

Neroon growled. "I do this for _my people!_"

"I am still your people."

He leaned in, predatory. "_Are_ you? I don't know _what_ you are, Delenn. Look at yourself." His eyes drifted down her, sneering. He did not hide his revulsion; indeed, she suspected he played it up.

Delenn took his face in her hands in a quick, angry move. He wasn't expecting it, from the widening of his eyes, which snapped back to hers. "My heart has never changed," she vowed.

And then she kissed him with more teeth than lips, with more fierceness than passion. He wasn't expecting this either, from the way his mouth slackened, out of shock.

"Delenn," he muttered, against her lips. A warning.

She threw him off her. "On your knees," she demanded.

Neroon complied almost before he had realised what he'd done. So, Delenn thought, you have not wholly given up your Warrior Caste ways - the Warrior Caste which was ever subservient to the Religious. Sometimes - in this case - literally. "Spread your thighs," she instructed.

He gaped. "You will not -"

"_Do not tell me what I will or will not do_," Delenn snapped. "Your _thighs_, Warrior."

Mutely, he shifted to obey.

"The Ritual of Grievance demands supplication," she said. "Some modest humility on the part of the injurer. I doubt you even remember the words from any of your petty childhood squabbles, so allow me to interpret since I, too, am a religious scholar, and my experience vastly outweighs your own -"

Neroon opened his mouth to retort. She slapped him across the face. He shut it again.

"You _insulted me_ in front of an audience of my peers," Delenn shouted. "You let your ambition rule you and vaulted yourself to a position of power you are not meant to occupy!"

"The triluminary too found me worthy!" Neroon barked. She slapped him again, and the humiliated mottling spread to his cheeks as the pale blue markings around the central spike of his crest flushed cerulean.

He does not hate this nearly as much as he should, she realised.

And, if by their ways, he had managed to complete the rituals to become one of the Grey Council, he must indeed be worthy. It was never necessary to Delenn that _she_ be part of the Council - only that the people who were on it serve. No doubt Neroon was hungry for her own political power. He would come to realise there was work involved, and he would bear the load.

He would serve. She would see to it.

"If you are worthy, you will take a moment now, on your knees," she explained, "to serve." She took him by the crest, one hand on the right spike, her other on the part that extended forward, and pushed his head back to jut out his jaw. "And we will consider the matter ended. Do you understand?"

Neroon's eyes were black both with desire and disgust. His skin was hot where she gripped him. "And if I refuse?"

She had him on his knees for her, this thighs spread (as she wasn't so cruel as to make him clench them, he liked this more than he should and she suspected that was part of the illicit thrill of it all). "You will not refuse," Delenn replied.

Neroon glowered and said nothing.

"You will reveal me," she instructed, knowing that it implied she still had the kneecap-like _plom'ta_ that confined her _thet'yel_. Not anymore. Let that surprise him. She wanted to see the reaction it would pull from him when he found just a neat triangle of hair - proof she had permanently changed. Proof of her part-Humanity.

As he carefully peeled back the folds of her robes - the light-violet nawalt robe she wore underneath the thicker, fluraat mantle that shaped her shoulders and hung long in front - to see for himself, he could not even keep the presence of mind to be polite about his revulsion. Or he could, and intended insult on purpose; politeness was something he'd withhold. Such stubbornness. I will push you out of your manners, she thought, since you've already pushed yourself into dishonour.

He slipped her undergarments past her hips. There was a sharp intook gasp. "What you've done to yourself, Delenn," he growled.

Lust had not completely left his voice.

You hate that you like this, she thought. She wondered if he was aching as badly as she was, between his legs, if he was dripping wet too. You hate me, Neroon, but you hate that more. And you hate it so much you cannot completely contain your reactions, not from me. Now I have something over you for the rest of your days.

"Warrior," Delenn sneered. "_Serve_."

With a bitter glare, Neroon leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue was tentative, exploratory. He had no idea that the nub he circled, in trying to disobey her, was far more sensitive than the outer lips. There was no such target bead on a Minbari's _thet'yel_, the many petals and folds were what slickened and tingled with touch or taste. Delenn had had nine; she had only four now, two outer, two inner (perhaps she ought to call it a _quar'yel_).

Neroon seemed to be avoiding those out of principle, and the sensation was annoyingly powerful. He would not get out of it so quickly and easily. "Haven't you served a woman before?" Delenn asked. Delenn did not shame inexperience, but Neroon did, so she said this to wound him on his own terms. "I thought you sat a Shan-fall."

"Indeed, with a _Minbari_ woman," he sneered. The rumble of his voice at her thighs was insultingly delicious; he teased her as he insulted her. He knew she was sensitive about her change and what other Minbari thought of it. What the humans thought of it. It would not stop her from doing it but the lack of acceptance grated on her. Delenn alone had had the will and the vision and the faith, and as religious caste and one of their members with more conviction than most, she was used to her will being obeyed and accepted without question.

But this unruly willful warrior did not reject her now. He would not - he could not.

"You tease with your mouth," she said. "I demand you put it to better use. I am not asking, Neroon."

"Make me," he growled.

So she did. She took him again by the crest and forced his head back, to thrust his mouth more firmly into the join of her thighs.

Finally he began to serve her, his tongue stroking along the inner set of lips, along one and then the other, where he expected Minbari nerve endings to be. He extended too far on the upstroke and reached the hooded nub probably by accident, and it pulls a moan from her. "Hmm," said he, thinking aloud, "you shouldn't be so sensitive. If you weren't the abomination you are."

Damn these vibrations of his _voice_. "More," Delenn ordered. "More, there."

"As you wish," he said drily, and committed himself to the task with barely half the dedication she had seen him use.

"Talking borrows your attention," she said. He licked her in circles and her words stuttered.

"Not - mmh - _my_ attention," he replied. A swipe up, then flicking underneath the hood. How he had managed to fit the tip of his tongue there, she didn't understand, but he was evidently flexible. More flexible in his tongue than he ever was in his bearing. She wouldn't have thought it possible. "You practically drip for this," Neroon murmured.

"I'm sure if I paid you the attention you crave and don't deserve, I should find the same of you," Delenn spat.

He did not deny it. "Are all humans this grotesquely wet?" He drove his tongue in again.

"Your curiosity betrays you," she said bitterly, "that you would ask. Perhaps you're not so cold to them as you feign - _aah_ -" She broke off in a gasp. Neroon had fumbled his hand past her robes and pressed his thumb against her entrance. The brilliance of nerve endings there was too familiar. She felt herself tip towards climax with shuddering speed.

"_Oh - _I thought you hated humans," she croaked, "you must merely dislike them; for you truly hate this."

"My hatred," he said, "has greater depths than you could possibly imagine." And he drove his thumb further inside her.

Delenn would not let him make such a quick job of her. She pushed his head back to ride his lips and for a moment his hand stilled. She wondered if he could breathe with his nose buried in her hair like this; she wondered if she cared. Then he huffed a warm sigh against her and shifted his tongue. He took the nub of bright nerves in his mouth and sucked hot and hard enough to sting, ignoring the finesse she knew he possessed in order to make a point of it, his lips within hers completely.

"So badly behaved, a mark of indiscipline." The words were less stinging when she moaned them out. She took a moment to remind herself of her ire and tightened her hold on the spikes of his crest to direct him. "Does your honour mean nothing? Remain on target! Where is your focus?"

"Where is _yours?_" Neroon growled. He had a momentary lapse of concentration as he clenched his eyes shut, opening his mouth wider, driving his thumb in deeper, past her muscles, inside. He let out a faint moan, canting himself forward on his thighs, before he remembered himself. Then the thumb was removed to play at her entrance instead, lingering along the boundary, circling in orbit around a singularity. Inside, she wanted, plunge inside me, but she would not beg him. He breathed heavily as he said, "You who have dishonored Minbari by your actions."

"My actions are prophesied!" Delenn cried.

"I don't recall reading your name in Valen's texts." Neroon tilted his head to drive himself deeper.

Her legs began to tremble; he gripped one of her thighs to support her. "I'm surprised you know anything of his hand."

"The rituals for accepting the position of Satai have not changed! I adhere to tradition - do you?"

"Did you adhere to tradition when you took my position?"

"You _like me_ in my _new position_," he hissed against her clit and again slipped inside her, and she cried out as she came, constricting and convulsing around his thumb.

It lasted a shuddering eternity, it seemed.

Finally she collected her senses. Neroon had stilled his wicked tongue, the blade pressed flat against her hot flesh. She could feel him swallow. She pushed him back by the crest to look at his face, his mouth smeared with her wetness. His thighs shook with exertion and he panted heavily; she did not even have to inquire about his own state. It would be a surprise if he had not accidentally unfurled himself.

"On your feet," said Delenn.

Wearily, Neroon struggled to stand. The grey robe (_her_ grey robe) fell past his boots.

Judging by the fold of the robe he not unfurled. Delenn was not sure whether that surprised her, that his discipline were so strong. He had always been strong. She took her small dainty hand and grabbed him suddenly between his legs. He shook as his _valrat_ unfurled, a muscle reflex he could no longer control.

"I," he said weakly. "Please -"

He had always been strong. He could stop this if he wanted. If he truly wanted. Delenn claimed this victory in her heart and smirked, cold and cruel.

"I am not asking," she said. "I could, if I wanted."

Instead she palmed him through the robe and watched as the fabric began to moisten. He couldn't help it.

"I could have you on your back and I could ride you," she continued, "you would serve me just as you have." He was large, wet for her, she didn't have to imagine that he ached for this because there was evidence of it here now, in her hand, openly aching. Neroon clenched his eyes shut as he willed himself the impossible: not to feel, not to enjoy it, not to come. He began breathing through his nose, trying to stave off a first peak of orgasm. It was working better to hyperventilate himself. The blue around his crest deepened further. She wrapped her hand tight around his _valrat_, through the robe, and stroked.

"You have taken everything from me," she said, gloating. "You have taken my position. My authority. My friends!" Another firm stroke and he whimpered. "Perhaps you should give me something in return, Neroon!"

"Stars, I hate you," he gasped out.

"I know," said Delenn, smiling sweetly as he reached a first peak with a soft, broken moan, clutching at her shoulders with an ineffective grip.

She removed her hand. There was a wet mark on the Satai robe where she had rubbed him against it. His face was flush with anger and humiliation. She would let him be - she was not _so_ cruel. Probably, he would rub himself through a few more peaks after she left to slake himself completely, alone with his humiliation. That would be between him and the universe.

"Come, now," she said. "_I_ have done you the honour of this where no one has to see you fall. That is more than you gave me - a public tongue-lashing in front of my colleagues and some of my oldest friends. Now all know I am no longer Satai. But no one knows what you've done here."

"_I_ know," said Neroon weakly. "It is enough."

Delenn took him by the chin and directed his face up. He still would not look at her. "Promise me at least you will serve our people well," she said. "In your new capacity. Do _not_ make this a mistake."

"I don't need to make any promises to you," Neroon said, to the ground. "I made my promises before the Council, but _your_ tenure as Satai has ended. Your demands are able to be met as any common Minbari who petitions us and you are lucky to have that, for you are no common Minbari." Now his eyes darted up to hers and narrowed. "Barely Minbari at all."

Amusing, that you think you can hurt me. "I will be watching, Neroon."

He drew close to her then, his lips slick with her and reddened with the exertion of before, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. But he wiped his lower lip with the back of his hand and flicked his wrist dry. "I don't doubt it," he sneered. "You do like to watch. How else to gather your secrets?"

Delenn fixed her robes and strode out the room quickly enough that it would not show the weakness and fatigue in her muscles. She did not look back.

**Author's Note:**

> I made up komre'cha as the Ritual of Grievances. It probably doesn't always mean oral sex, but hey maybe it does.


End file.
